When morning arrives, the little boy pretends to be asleep when his father knocks at the bedroom door. He doesn’t move until his father is next to the bed. “Then I get up and jump into his arms.” They both love the ritual.

But one day, “the knock never comes. I wait, but Papa’s not there to play our game. And morning after morning, he never comes.”

The little boy counts all the holes that his father’s absence creates: Not there to help him get ready for school; not there to cook scrambled eggs just the right way; not there to help with homework.

So the boy writes a letter, begging his father to come home, listing all the things he needs to learn from his dad: how to dribble a basketball, how to shave, how to drive, how to fix the car.

Two months pass with no word. Then, finally, a letter is waiting on the son’s desk:

“As you grow older, shave in one direction with strong, deliberate strokes to avoid irritation.
“Dribble the page with the brilliance of your ballpoint pen.
“No longer will I be there to knock on your door, so you must learn to knock for yourself.
“KNOCK KNOCK down the doors that I could not.
“KNOCK KNOCK to open new doors to your dreams.”

It is searing and sorrowful, based on the author’s own experience. He was three years old when his father was incarcerated. As an educator, Beaty realized how many of his charges were facing the same circumstances he’d survived, dealing with the loss of a father through incarceration, divorce or death. In his author’s note, Beaty writes of his hope “that every fatherless child can still create the most beautiful life possible.”